


(And So We Have) Illusions to Think Freely

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Character Study, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Past Sexual Abuse, Possession, Supernatural Elements, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-21 16:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He felt her coming; he always did.Korekiyo Shinguji doesn't like it when his sister possesses him.Rated Mature for heavy themes and potentially disturbing content. This work does not contain romanticization or glorification of abuse or incest.





	(And So We Have) Illusions to Think Freely

**Author's Note:**

> The writers of NDRV3 did Korekiyo dirty. Written in an attempt to make Kiyo likeable, or at least sympathetic, after what's revealed in the third trial. He deserved better.
> 
> This was a vent fic, so it may not be the best written. Sorry in advance!

He felt her coming; he always did. 

It started with a deep swelling in his chest, something deniable at first. The breathlessness would quickly set in, and with every breath, his breathing would become more and more shallow, until it stretched the limits of his lungs to inhale, and doing so even slightly would now cause the boy agony. He welcomed the comfort of the stabbing pain in his lungs; it momentarily grounded him in reality. Blackness would dance around his vision, and the SHSL Anthropologist would pray to every god he knew, frantically begging that this wasn’t happening, praying for one of them to stop it- stop her. 

He couldn’t handle this, he never could. 

A new feeling, clawing and sinking, would emerge, one of claustrophobia from within his own body, trapped. He felt like an animal; stuck in a cage and on its way to the slaughter. Korekiyo had no escape, but God, he wished for one desperately. His vision became spottier and his body weaker. It became more challenging for him not to double over in agony. He only felt desperation, now, seeking self preservation he would never achieve. He knew what was next, it was routine. 

He felt his insides violently twist, and he gagged, nausea setting in he vomited in his mouth, only to quickly swallow it. He couldn’t ruin his mask, he couldn’t ruin his clothing. His sister, his dear sister, would be disappointed in him if he did. He doubled over in pain, grasping his stomach. His vision was completely gone now, and the boy was blind; everything was dark. More twisting came from within, and the searing, burning pain of the transformation set in. It hurt, everything hurt. His bones crushed against themselves and his muscles tore apart. His flesh felt like it was boiling. He tried to scream out in agony, but he was silenced by the only half-formed vocal cords that no longer belonged to him- they, like the rest of him, morphing into what Sister wanted. 

He would do anything for Sister. 

Something inside him began to scream at him, telling him to kill himself; to claw out his throat with his own fingernails or to gorge out his eyes and let himself bleed to death- to do anything to put an end to the raw, torturous pain coursing through his body. He could never get used to it, no matter how many times it happened. He tried, he fucking tried; Korekiyo wished so desperately to transcend his own physical pain. He wanted to be strong, strong enough for his sister. 

But he couldn’t. 

In a desperate attempt for survival, his conscious began to bargain with him, attempting to delude Korekiyo further than he already was. His inner voice began to beg to him, pleading that he simply ignore the tears that wet his face and acknowledge the truth, the truth that this is what he wanted all along. Guilt raced through his mind; how dare he suffer. Sister was doing this for him. He wanted this. He longed for his sister, and now that she was manifesting, he was pleading she stop? 

He could never plead for her to stop, no matter what. That would be a betrayal on his part. 

This body was no longer his own. His proportions were more lithe, more feminine. His jawline was no longer prominent. He didn’t understand how the transformation worked- how his body could physically change in such drastic ways. That didn’t matter. When it came to Sister, none of his own, selfish feelings mattered. He only existed for her. 

It was safe to think like that; it was all he knew. 

The pain had subsided. His entire body still ached horrifically, but the thoughts of self-mutilation no longer danced through his head. Korekiyo could no longer move his body, he was no longer in control. His vision returned, but it was off, something was wrong. He was using his eyes, yes, but he felt like an invader. 

This was his body, wasn’t it? 

It wasn’t. 

Nothing was in his control anymore, but then again, nothing was in the first place. At this point, he had almost forgotten the possession was against his will, his delusions of love and consent worsening. Things like that, oh, the lovely things like that, didn’t exist for Korekiyo. He was convinced they did, though; the lies he told himself sparing him from the trauma. Trauma, something he was convinced he didn’t have. It would destroy him to acknowledge that he was hurt, that she- 

No. Korekiyo couldn’t begin to think like that. He couldn’t even think critically about his, or their, situation long enough to deny that it ruined him, because, deep down, he knew that if he gave it more than a passing thought, he could no longer deceive himself into believing things were okay. He had to be okay. 

Korekiyo was a coward, and he wanted to cry, as cowards do. He couldn’t, though, as the body he inhabited no longer served him. 

He didn’t want to see his sister, he didn’t want this. 

Selfish! Of course he wanted to see Sister- she was his love. He didn’t have the luxury to think otherwise. He needed to calm down. 

It was almost on cue that he felt his own hand reach towards his face, fingers slowly grabbing hold of the top of his mask and gently pulling it down to rest at his neck, revealing the entirety of his face. His lips, which he kept fiercely hidden behind those masks of his, were painted red with shade of lipstick that Sister had worn on the daily. Thin, small, and feminine, his lips had always looked nearly identical to those of his sister, even before the bodily contortion caused the possession. After all, Korekiyo always kept his face covered for a reason.

His lips began to move against his own will, though, at this point, he no longer had one. The voice of a young woman, her tone compassionate, escaped his lips with an overflowing, delicate sweetness. “Sweet Korekiyo, what’s the matter?” she said, sensing his tenseness, his worry. “Aren’t you happy that I’m here?” 

Despite her words dripping from his mouth like honey, Korekiyo was overwhelmed with a sense of dread, his heart sinking into his chest. He had no control over his body, which was perhaps for the best. She could always sense something was wrong, sure, but at least she didn’t have the confirmation she would obtain from viewing the expression he would make. 

He loved her. So why did she make him feel like this? 

“Korekiyo?” She paused. His hand stroked his own face, bony fingers lingering on his lips as she pressed his index finger to his bottom lip, slowly and gently pushing it downwards, playing with it. “Sweet Korekiyo, your lips haven’t changed a bit.” She traced his lips with his finger, softly rubbing against them with his gloved hand. “The possession doesn’t even seem to have taken any affect on them. They’re the same as I remember from my time alive, brother.” 

She stayed like that, stroking his face for too long, far too long. His fingers pricked his skin every time they made new contact with his face, and Korekiyo longed for her to stop as they danced across his skin.

In a swift, sudden movement, she sharply pulled his hand away from his face, and he could feel his own features darken to fit her expression. “Sweet Korekiyo, something is wrong.” She went silent, and minutes passed without his body moving, even his blinking and breathing halted. He had read before that it was typical for a ghost to be unaccustomed to human activity, breathing and blinking included; Korekiyo was the SHSL Anthropologist, after all, he was bound to know this. But it was unnerving, as Sister wasn’t like the others; Sister was special. 

She resumed speaking, her expression neutral, as if nothing had happened.

“You are what’s wrong, Korekiyo,” she said flatly, all kindness from her voice replaced with an authoritative darkness. 

He felt his heart sink into his chest, her words tugging at the insecurities that laid the deepest within the realm of his mind; insecurities he was to be above, human insecurities Korekiyo believed that he didn’t know, and yet, he felt them, pulling him down and hurting him, telling him he’s worthless, he’s worthless and he’s dirty, and above all else, Korekiyo is wrong. He’s wrong for something that he didn’t choose, something that wasn’t his choice; all he did was cope, but he coped instead of fought- Sister knew this, she knew this and she loved this. She loved how dirty he felt, how dirty he was; how disgusting, how weak, how cowardly Korekiyo was. 

Her let her. He allowed her to- 

He realized she was speaking, though he could only tell from the movement of his lips. He’d gone deaf, he couldn’t hear her words, but he could tell they were cold and condescending; after all, they always were. 

He felt more pressure building on his chest, and if he were in control of his body, of his breathing, he’d be breathless. He was unable to speak, to move, and now, to hear. Korekiyo felt as if he were drowning. He wished he was, at least then he’d be dead by the end of it. 

What a whimsical thought death was. 

Korekiyo didn’t know how much time had passed before his mind allowed him to hear again; all he knew was that Sister was still speaking to him, demeaning him, her words as cruel and as sharp as they were before his hearing had left him. 

“But you’ll be better, won’t you?” she cooed, her voice mocking, oozing a sickening sweetness as the harsh words passed his lips. “You’ll stop being so worthless soon, right? Sweet Korekiyo, you’ll do it for me, won’t you? You’ll do anything for me.” 

She sighed, nimble fingers brushing against his jaw as she tucked a loose strand of the boy’s silky hair behind his ear. She played with it momentarily, her demeanor remaining poise as she twisted it around her finger before letting it fall back into place. His brow tensed in a conc

“I have to go.” She paused, before her voice came out of Korekiyo’s mouth for the final time that night, sultry and teasing, and not what he wanted to hear, not from her. 

“I love you, Korekiyo.” 

He wished desperately to find comfort in her words, but he couldn’t. Still, as his conscious screamed at him, he did the one thing he knew how to do; Korekiyo allowed everything to fall into place. 

_ I love you too. _

He believed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes a line in "The Divine Conspiracy" by Epica. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! <3 <3


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